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Dress, American, mid-19th century, Silk taffeta, cotton twill lining, plush velvet buttons, silk ribbon trim, whalebone, Gift of Miss Eleanor E. Barry, MFA Boston, 53.2222a-b

Rate the Dress: scalloped ruffle sleeves

This week on Rate the Dress we’re looking at a ca. 1860 plaid day dress.  Just like last week’s 1780s francaise it combines a very classic silhouette of its era with a few interesting design elements.

Last Week:  a 1770-80 française in green striped silk

Oooh, you did like last week’s dress…   The lowest rating was an 8, and the only complaints people had was that the stripes were a little cucumber-y.

In an amazing bit of synchronisity to the melon comments, a friend just learned about the Hawai’ian ae-ae banana, and sent me a photo of a stalk in just these colours.

The Total: 9.8 out of 10

That is really almost perfect!

This week: a ca. 1860 dress in stripey plaid

This day dress is an excellent example of its time.  It shows fashion just moving from the round crinoline of the 1850s into the elliptical hoop silhouette that would dominate the 1860s.

It’s a dress in two parts, with a seperate bodice and skirt.  The bodice features front buttons, a small standing collar, dropped shoulders framed with narrow piping, and wide sleeves featuring four rows of ruffled tiers with very shallow scalloped edges.

There’s the tiniest suggestion of the dipped V bodice of the 1850 at the waist, but a sash or belt would give the completely straight waist of the 1860s.

The plaid pattern, with its heavy diagonal stripe, makes the shape of the pattern pieces extremely clear: you can see the angles of the skirt gores, the dropped shoulders, and the double darts of the bodice.

The dress would have been worn with a collar, and engageantes (under sleeves).

What do you think?  Is this a good example of ca. 1860?  Nicely decorative without veering into frilly silliness?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

A reminder about rating — feel free to be critical if you don’t like a thing, but make sure that your comments aren’t actually insulting to those who do like a garment.  Phrase criticism as your opinion, rather than a flat fact. Our different tastes are what make Rate the Dress so interesting.  It’s no fun when a comment implies that anyone who doesn’t agree with it, or who would wear a garment, is totally lacking in taste.

As usual, nothing more complicated than a .5.  I also hugely appreciate it if you only do one rating, and set it on a line at the very end of your comment.

18th century rumps silliness thedreamstress.com

Oh bummer, it’s costumers on a rumpage!

What happens when you’ve just made test versions of the Frances Rump pattern, and your friend comes over to check the fit of her Augusta Stays and get some advice on cutting her chemise neckline?

Silliness!

We put the stays on, discussed fit and alterations, and checked her shift neckline.  And then as long as she had her stays on, we decided to try the rumps to see how they fit on her.

First she tried the little Frances (View B), and said “oooh, that’s nice!”

Then she tried the big Frances (View A), and said “oooh, that’s even nicer!”

Then she tried each of them on with my little bum pad I made years ago, to see how that changed the silhouette.

And then I mentioned that you could wear them both together for the ultra-fashionable enormous-booty look, so she tried that.

And then she wanted to try my split rump from the American Duchess book, to see how that looked under a petticoat compared to the others.

And then we got a bit ridiculous…

18th century rump silliness thedreamstress.com

ALL THE RUMPAGE!

18th century rump silliness thedreamstress.com

It’s like the princess and the pea, except for rumps!

We put a petticoat over the rump tower, and it was so shelf-y I had a brainstorm…

Could we…

18th century rump silliness thedreamstress.com

Ooooooh yeaaaaaaah!

And what about that thing about walking with books on your head?  What about…

18th century rump silliness thedreamstress.com

Walking with books on your bum!

I can now confirm that it also forces you to glide smoothly and elegantly!

So yeah, this is what my friends and I get up to when we hang out 🤣

Rate the Dress: Fresh green française stripes

This week’s Rate the Dress may be familiar to many of you.  For others, it may be a happy (or, this being Rate the Dress, indifferent) introduction.  Whichever the case, I hope you enjoy looking at it more closely!

Last Week:  an 1810s dress is very, very yellow silk

There’s quite a lot that people agreed on about last week’s frock.  You agreed the dress was indeed very historically-accurate-Bridgerton-esque.  That it was most likely later than the date given by the family (which did mean it was exactly the right era to be worn by the sisters).  You almost all thought the sleeves were very nice indeed.  And that the hem treatment was clumsy and unrefined, but that the overall effect was deliciously sunny and happy.

In fact, this was one of the most concensus-y dresses we’ve had in a long time.  There was two ratings for 10, and one for 6, but every other rating clusetered in the 7-9 range, with the vast majority at 8-8.5.  Which means it should be no surprise that the final tally is…

The Total: 8.2 out of 10

A very cohesive rating.

This week: a 1770-80 française in green striped silk

I’ve had this dress on my ‘to feature on Rate the Dress’ list for a long time.  Despite that, I really debated whether to feature this dress as a Rate the Dress.  It’s so well known that it seems redundant to show it.

I finally decided to because it seems unfair not to showcase well known garments: after all, that removes so many of the most visually striking, well photographed dresses out there!

This Robe à  la française dates to the last decade in which the française was still a  fashionable choice, instead of a conservative choice.

The  française may have been on the decline, but this one still demonstrates up-to-the-minute design elements.  Gone are the floating rococo ruffles, replaced by linear trim held down by multiple lines of stitching.  Even the ‘fly fringing’ silk trim is features small, controlled repeats.  The attached stomacher is also typical of this decade.

Interestingly, the striped silk fabric was imported from China.  It’s a great illustration of how extensive the fabric trading networks were at the time, and how the fabrics being imported also reflected changing European tastes.  Instead of the painted florals and exotic scenes that were only available in imported fabrics, these serene stripes could have been woven in Europe, but the fabric was still worth bringing in.

What do you think of this green française with its play on stripes?  Is it the perfect example of late era française?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

A reminder about rating — feel free to be critical if you don’t like a thing, but make sure that your comments aren’t actually insulting to those who do like a garment.  Phrase criticism as your opinion, rather than a flat fact. Our different tastes are what make Rate the Dress so interesting.  It’s no fun when a comment implies that anyone who doesn’t agree with it, or who would wear a garment, is totally lacking in taste.

As usual, nothing more complicated than a .5.  I also hugely appreciate it if you only do one rating, and set it on a line at the very end of your comment.